


A Key, Once Lost, Has Been Found

by NicoDiAngeloLover7



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mentions of Violence, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Wounded Arm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoDiAngeloLover7/pseuds/NicoDiAngeloLover7
Summary: All things considered, Desmond thought he'd be dead by this point. At least, that's what Juno had said. But if that were true, then why was he still alive in the year 1499?All rights go their respectful owners. Their brilliant minds is responsible for creating this amazing series. I own nothing....
Relationships: Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Desmond Miles
Comments: 30
Kudos: 257





	1. You Were Here... Now You're There

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Catching Heat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682188) by [esama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama). 



> I've been having this idea to write an Assassin's Creed fanfic, with no crossovers. It will turn into a slash, like most of my works do, lol. 
> 
> This fanfic has been inspired by esama's amazing work, Catching Heat. 
> 
> For the first scene, I have used some of the dialog from the Assassin's Creed 3. Again, all credits go to the owners there. I hope you do enjoy it!!
> 
> ~NicoDiAngeloLover7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This cover art has been created by: DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns. So, all artistic credit goes to her for such a brilliant piece. 
> 
> ~NicoDiAngeloLover7

****

**A Key, Once Lost, Has Been Found – Chapter 1 (You Were Here… Now You're There)**

Desmond was a bit groggy upon coming out of the animus for what felt like the last time. His eyes were determined as he looked at Shaun and Rebecca. But that didn't change what his first words were.

"I know where the key is."

But it wasn't Shaun or Rebecca who said the next words, but his father. A man that Desmond wasn't too fond of being around. And there was still some high tension from earlier. He traced the healing scar on his lip. It was another thing to add to the similarities with his ancestors. He wasn't happy about the way he got it, glancing at the ring on his father's finger. Surprised that his blood wasn't still on it.

Shaun made the drive to the Davenport Manor. It was eerie silent up until the moment that Desmond jumped out of the van and made his way to the graves. He rested a hand on Connor's grave, feeling the old stone. Shaun handed him the shovel and he began to dig. And dig until he found a familiar looking necklace, identical to the one he had seen in the Animus. Despite the decades and centuries that had passed since Connor had buried it.

There was no time to waste as Desmond jumped back into the van, enduring the silence once more. There were no words until they entered the Grand Temple once again.

"Alright, let's see what's inside," Desmond spoke aloud. He had already plugged in the remaining power sources beforehand. So, there was no time to waste as he walked to the door. The key around his neck stared to glow neon green. He ripped it away from his neck and allowed it to be sucked into the door.

His lips thinned; he was a bit wary on what was the other side of the door. He didn't know what it would be, only that it would benefit Juno. But also, the instrument that would help save the world. There was only one way to find out.

"Guess this is it," Desmond said as the door opened.

"We're right behind you," Rebecca clasped her hand to Desmond's shoulder.

The blue glass that had been in front of them suddenly vanished. But the closer and closer that Desmond got the center of the room, the more he heard Juno's voice.

There was a concrete pedestal in the middle of the room. On top of it was a glowing globe that emitted the same blue light as the door did.

"Here at last," came Juno's voice. "You know our story now. Of how we tried. Of how we failed. All our hopes extinguished. Save one."

Desmond watched as she placed her hand on the globe. The blue light seemed to have gotten brighter because of that.

"Your touch, a spark. A spark to save the world."

Desmond had to take a step back when he heard a new voice. A voice he hadn't heard since the moment in the vault with Ezio. It was Minerva.

"Wait! Do not touch the pedestal!" she cried out, marching towards Juno.

"You!? But how? You left! You destroyed the device!" Juno yelled, bewildered.

"Did you think there was only one," Minerva's tone was smug.

"What the hell is going on here?" came William Mile's voice.

"You must not free her," Minerva said.

"Free her?" Desmond said confused. Did that mean Juno had been trapped?

"Juno dwells within these walls, awaiting release. I will explain. While we worked to save the world, she sought instead to conquer it. She used our machines to set her plans in motion. Divination through numbers, there is a pattern to existence. To comprehend the calculations is to tame time. This was my focus. So, I built the eye to aid us, but she turned it to her own ends. When we discovered her treachery, we put a stop to it. And then we left, but first we called to you. That you may try again. We thought it would be safe with her gone. Now I see that we were deceived. She survived, she endured, and then she began to work. For centuries, Tenia and I walked the world, hoping to rekindle the spark of civilization. We shared what we knew, the best we could. We were not the only ones but all the power we wrought till death would claim us. But before it did, I would have one more last look to see if we had succeeded," Minerva explained.

"That's how you're here now?" Desmond asked. The pieces that had been lost to him were slowly fitting together.

"I had hoped you may find this place and finish our work. But it is too late. You and the Templars have squabbled over our refuse. You have wasted centuries and so you have lost your chance. You cannot hope to stop the end now, Desmond. Only to survive."

Desmond had to blink at Minerva's words before Juno cut her off. Did that mean this their once chance to stop this was lost? That all they done was for nothing now?

"Only touch the pedestal and the world will be saved," Juno cut in, rebutting Minerva's words

"Better the world burned, then she be loosed upon it," Minerva snapped back.

"Is that so? Show him then," Juno dared.

Desmond listened to the argument over if they should him whatever they had seen. He had enough. He was tired of all the cryptic clues. He wanted answers. And when Juno had offered the chance to show him, he took it. That was when Minerva showed him the end of the world and how it could be reborn anew. But he knew as he watched, that this was no world to live in. No matter what Minerva may say.

"She would sacrifice you, sacrifice the world. For no other reason than to deny me vindication," Juno said.

"They will enslave your kind, Desmond. Is this not why you fight? Is this not why you came here? To ensure more than your race's future, but its freedom?" Minerva tried to plea.

"What future?! What freedom?! Billions dead! And the whole cycle begun anew. This world has known nothing but heartache and horror since we left it," Juno proclaimed, her tone angry.

"Our gift to them and you'd see it all returned…" Minerva started to say.

"Enough!" Desmond was thoroughly irritated by their argument. All because Minerva seem to rather have the world burn. Well he had already made his decision and it wasn't a hard one either.

"You must not do this," Minerva pleaded one more time.

"Whatever Juno's planning… However terrible it might seem today. We'll find a way to stop it. But the alternative… what you want… there's no hope there," Desmond said.

"If you free her, you'll be destroyed," Minerva said.

"It will happen in an instant. There will be no pain," Juno stated.

"You mustn't!" Minerva begged.

"It's done, Minerva. The decision's made," Desmond said.

"Then the consequences of your mistake are yours to live and die with," Minerva's words were harsh.

Desmond tried not to think about what he was about to do. But first he needed everyone out.

"You need to go, all of you. Get as far away from here as you can," Desmond ordered.

He half expected to hear a complaint about not letting him die. But there wasn't a single one. Not like he expected to hear one from his own father. Some hopes just die young… But Shaun and Rebecca gave a him a back glance. They were worried for him but knew no words would comfort or change his mind.

Juno and Minerva had vanished as well as William, Rebecca, and Shaun ran out of the room. Desmond waited several minutes before he couldn't wait no longer. He took a deep breath, hoping that Juno was right about there being no pain. He tried to steel himself as he walked towards the glowing pedestal. He could feel the slight wind blowing the Assassins robe he was wearing. He usually just wore his hoodie and jeans. He had only worn them a few times, usually for missions. As it hadn't been long ago since his last one and he never had time to change.

Desmond took in another deep breath before reaching out with his left hand. Slowly reaching out and placing it on the glowing pedestal. And then he felt it.

Juno said it would be quick, that he would feel no pain, but she had lied. It was the worst pain he had ever felt, his body felt as if it separated into pieces and smashed back together. His limbs were on fire but mind-numbingly cold all at the same time. An electric current shot up his arm in waves of shocking pain, coursing down his body and into his veins.

He wished he would just die but the pain lingered on.

It got the point it felt like his soul was ripping apart into shreds. He didn't know how much longer he could stand this.

He even tried to rip his hand off of the pedestal. But it refused to budge as a scream was ripped from his throat. The skin on his arm was already turning pitch black, as if he held it under a burning fire and scorched it himself.

And then… he fell.

Hard… to the ground, but he still felt pain. It didn't seem to stop.

Then the floor disappeared from under him, but he didn't feel a thing. Finally rendered unconscious, his body was in too much pain for his mind to bear. So, it shut itself off into an abyss.

* * *

The next shocking thing that Desmond realized was that he wasn't dead. Had Juno lied to him? She had claimed that his death would be instant. But she apparently already lied about there being no pain. He could still recall those moments. He shuddered in memory.

Desmond then had to curse and brought his left arm to his chest, cradling it. He was still in unbearable pain, enough where he couldn't quite get up or really move. But there was still feeling in the arm, somewhat. He started to hope that maybe within time, it would heal. Though he doubted that it would ever look the same.

Then he realized that he wasn't in the same place as when he fell. He briefly remembered falling and losing consciousness. No doubt there may be a bruise from that. But he was outside, where before he was inside the Grand Temple. It didn't make any sense.

Then there was another thing, he was still wearing his Assassin robes and it didn't seem to take any of the damage that his arm did. But he needed to find out where he was and preferably soon.

Desmond had to release the unusable arm and let it hang. He used the other hand to push himself to his feet. Though his feet were unstable for a moment, he did not fall. The sleeve of the robe hid most of the arm, but not his hand. He would need to find gloves and soon. He knew if anyone were to see him, it would attract attention. Though there would be the matter if he would be able to use them yet. He would have to wait till the pain receded before attempting to wear a glove over the damaged hand.

And it turns out that Desmond wasn't sure if luck was on his side or not.

"Ser!? Ser!?" came a cry.

Desmond jerked awake. He had been walking for what felt like hours and had decided to rest for a moment. And that moment had turned into a nap.

"Ser, are you alright?"

Desmond turned to look, what appeared to be an older man, wearing clothes that seemed very familiar to him. But he couldn't place on where and how he knew. The Italian words were familiar enough. It made him wonder if that pedestal transported him to Italy or somewhere of that nature.

"I am fine, thank you," Desmond managed.

"Ser, you are not fine. You are injured. Your hand—"

"Is beyond saving," Desmond gritted out, not wanting to be part of this conversation any longer.

The man looked horrified, "How? A doctor surely could help you."

Desmond didn't really want to answer, the question. But figured if he was going to get any answers, it was necessary.

"Burned alive," Desmond responded, it was the closest to the truth.

The man's eyes showed a hint of fear before it turned to rage, "The damn Borgia… imbecille…"

Desmond's lips twitched at the curse, but then his eyes widened.

"Merda," he cursed, not realizing he had slipped into Italian.

The old man looked at him warily, dropping the injury subject. But decided he needed to warn him.

"I would stay away from Monteriggioni,."

"Monteriggioni?" Desmond asked.

"The Borgia has launched an attack…" the man shuddered.

Desmond clenched his fists, that meant that it was 1500. That it hadn't been long ago that Ezio had visited the Vatican Vault and faced Rodrigo Borgia. It would be too late to save Mario Auditore, Cesare would have killed him by now. He couldn't help but feel sympathy for Ezio, that was another member of his family dead because of Templars. He could understand why Ezio hadn't killed him then… he only wished that he had. And knew that Ezio would come to know of who Cesare is.

Desmond knew that he needed to get to Rome. He wasn't sure what he was going to do once there, but he had to do something. There was no point in trying to reach Monteriggioni, it would be in ruins by the time he got there. And he knew there would be no people in the city. It would be just a wasted trip and he didn't think he would have time to spare. He just hoped that his presence wouldn't screw up the timeline, but it wasn't like there was a way to get back. If he even wanted to go back… And now… he wasn't sure he wanted to. He wasn't even sure if the world had been saved. He imagined it would be since Juno would most likely have been released.

"How far is it to Roma," Desmond asked the man.

"It is a three to five days travel."

Desmond nodded, "thank you."

"How will you get there?" the old man asked.

"A friend," Desmond said.

The man looked confused, but Desmond didn't look back. The man didn't need to know that he was going to steal a horse. It reminded him of his days back in the Animus. But he knew there was no time to lose. He wasn't sure exactly where Ezio was. Somewhere between Monteriggioni and Rome. He wondered if he would beat the legendary Assassin there.

According to his memory from the Animus, Ezio was wounded by an arquebusier's gun from the invasion. And he would still fight his way through Cesare's army that sought to invade and destroy his home. It wasn't the same weapon that would be responsible for killing Mario Auditore. But that didn't mean the wound wasn't painful. He could still recall the pain from that, even though it wasn't physically on Desmond's own body. And on top of that, Ezio still fought off part of Cesare's army before escaping through the hidden tunnels. To later getting a horse and attempting to ride towards Rome before falling off the horse.

Desmond still wondered what family it was that took Ezio in and tried to heal him to the best of their ability. That was before the young Auditore went to see a doctor and then later met with Niccolo Machiavelli.

Those events felt so long ago… but yet they had all happened within a few months of time. Had it really just been September when Abstergo kidnapped him and forced him to relieve Altaïr's memories? And then he had willingly sought after Ezio's soon after.

Desmond shook his head; he couldn't afford to be distracted now. He still had a goal to reach and he was still vulnerable to being attacked. He could still fight, no doubt about that. But no doubt his enemies would see his arm as a weakness. Grasping the reigns on the horse tighter, he urged the creature on.


	2. Could Be Our Last Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally when I next update a fanfic, its another one of mine. But I've been feeling especially inspired after writing the first chapter. Especially by all your comments, so I decided to write the next one. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~NicoDiAngeloLover7

**A Key, Once Lost, Has Been Found – Chapter 2 (Could Be Our Last Mistake)**

It would be on the second day that Desmond would have his next surprise.

Stealing a horse hadn't been any trouble. Guards seemed to be even worse than he remembered. He doubted that the guard would notice until several hours later. He knew that he probably could have killed him. He still had his hidden blades on each forearm. Though the one on the left was still unusable at the moment. But that didn't mean he still couldn't fight. He refused to let his arm be the reason why he couldn't fight or be an Assassin. He had given that life up once and he refused to do that again.

He had stolen a sword as well. It was a little battered and worse for wear, but it was better than no protection at all. He wished he had a pistol on him, it would come in handy in the long run. But he knew he had to deal with what he had. He had already stolen Florins off several guards. He knew that he would eventually need to stop at a Blacksmith and Tailor eventually. His Assassin robe was probably too modern. Though it was similar enough to pass by without too many questions. But he needed a different type of attire for his shoes, they would be a giveaway. If he wasn't already, he'd be labeled as a foreigner… an outsider. He wasn't sure if that would be considered a good thing or not. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to find out, not yet anyways.

Though it would matter on perspective. To the people of Rome, he didn't think it would be a bad thing to be considered an outsider. He was not from Rome, though he wondered if he gained Ezio's Florentine accent from so much time in the Animus. No, the real worry was if he would be considered an outsider to the Assassins. He was not sure how they would take to visitors. But he figured since they welcomed Ezio with open arms, it couldn't be all bad. But that could be only because Ezio already had connections with these people. Niccolo Machiavelli and La Volpe were two prime examples. And Ezio already had an Assassin's reputation from the year prior when he had killed most of the Templars responsible for his family's deaths. Sans the Borgia family, namely Rodrigo and Cesare.

There was no telling what he would expect if he came across any of the Assassins in this time period. He just hoped that he would be well prepared for it when he did. And Desmond knew it would be inevitable since he planned to aid them if he could.

Those were his rushing thoughts as the hours past quickly. Then he came upon a scene that he did not expect to see.

It was a person that he recognized almost immediately. Niccolo Machiavelli.

The assassin was surrounded by about eight or nine men, clearly surrounded and outnumbered.

Desmond grimaced as pain rushed through his bad arm. But he tried to ignore that for now. He tried to quietly dismount, securing the reins to a nearby railing.

The men were no doubt Cesare's men as they focused on the assassin. But they didn't seem to notice him, too oblivious while moving in closer to Machiavelli. That would be several of the men's downfall.

The assassin had already withdrawn his sword and held his ground, ready for the fight that was sure to come.

Desmond's eyes were narrowed as he unsheathed his hidden blade. Silent as if walking in the shadows, he crept behind each guard and drove it in deep into their neck. Each guard crumpling to the ground, slightly twitching as they died from the injury and blood loss.

It would be by the third guard that they realized there weren't as many men. And that someone was taking them down and it wasn't their target.

Machiavelli did not attack him, but his eyes were suspicious. But he gave a firm nod before attacking. He quickly decapitated the next four men. It was between slashing at their necks or a straight through and through to the chest. All four of them fell to the ground, swords falling from their hands.

Desmond had already taken care of the eighth guard, a swift blade to the chest.

While Machiavelli had been taking care of his guards. Desmond faced the last of them. He had to jump back to avoid the blade as the guard swung. It slightly grazed him, but it didn't cut his robes. That seemed to make the man angrier. Desmond made the guard circle, trying to find an opening. He still had his poor excuse for a sword strapped to his waist. But that would make him lose precious time, time if used, may result in his death.

He almost wished he probably would have just used his sword, but that would have ruined the element of surprise. And those three men that he killed before they realized anything, may still have been alive.

In normal circumstances, Desmond would have been able to easily switch from using his hidden blade to a sword. He knew his skill with a sword. It was on the same level as Ezio's, which was saying something. But that was the key phrase… normally… These were not normal circumstances, far from it.

But with an unusable arm, he had to make do with what he could. And he didn't believe that he'd be able to withdraw his sword before the guard would try to attack again. So, he made the man dance as he dodged every attack. If he could get the guard mad enough, he would leave an opening for Desmond to strike.

Maybe later Desmond should have rethought that plan. But it would be too late to try to turn back time, impossible even.

He managed to kill the guard, but in doing so, he wound up wounded.

Desmond had misjudged how far the blade could reach. The guard had swung again, and it would have killed him. The man had aimed for a killing blow and would have succeeded if not for Desmond's hidden blade.

Desmond parried the strike to turn the blade away from him and try to get the man to turn his back on him. But it had still met contact against his chest, leaving a deep wound, blood running down his robes. He couldn't help the whimper that escaped his lips, the blade had hit deep. He still refused to falter, and the man now had his back to him.

Desmond took his chance and slammed his blade into his back. He could hear the guard gasp for breath, feeling every inch of the blow. His sword dropped to the floor as the guard fell to his knees. Then he toppled over dead.

Desmond collapsed to the ground, feeling the pain rushing over him. The pain in his arm seemed minor compared to this. He knew that he would need a doctor soon, but he didn't think it was life threatening.

Machiavelli had then sheathed his sword and turned back to face him. It was hard to see what the man was thinking as he approached. He crouched in front of Desmond.

"Thank you, my friend… brother," Machiavelli said.

Desmond nodded; he knew that he would eventually recognize his robes as an Assassin robe.

"I dare hate to think what would have happened if not for your aid," Machiavelli continued.

Desmond cracked a grin, "I know you would have given me the same honor."

"Indeed…" Machiavelli said, before his tone changed to alarm.

"You are injured!"

Desmond nodded, "losing blood too…"

Machiavelli's lips thinned, "we can exchange conversation later, you, my friend, must get to a doctor."

Desmond let the assassin ease him to his feet. He felt his arm around his shoulder, letting him lean his weight on him.

Desmond sighed, appreciating the help.

"There is a doctor not far from here, since Roma is only a few hours away," Machiavelli said.

Desmond nodded, not wanting to talk as blood kept seeping through his hand.

Machiavelli did not let his grip falter on this strange assassin. He did not offer any more words, sure that the man would not appreciate them. He had his own share of wounds and was impressed that this newcomer was handling the pain so well. It reminded me a bit of his friend, Ezio. And that was a depressing thought, he had already received news about Monteriggioni. His friends and fellow assassins were dead… But he knew that he still had to make his way to Roma, to help fight against the Borgia.

Desmond was laid down on the table as a doctor slowly inspected him.

The doctor was wearing a pair of official forest green robes with a while mask, shaped for a beak.

"Your friend will live as long as his body takes care. It will heal over time, I have wrapped the wounds and treated them. Your young body will help you heal faster," the doctor spoke with ease.

"Grazie," Machiavelli said as Desmond eased off the table. He handed the doctor some florins for his services.

"What about his other arm?" Niccolo asked the doctor.

"It is beyond saving," the doctor replied with a tone of regret.

Machiavelli didn't look happy about that, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm not dead yet," Desmond replied.

Niccolo's lips twitched at that, "if you are feeling well enough to walk, there are some questions I have."

Desmond nodded and gave a brief word of thanks towards the doctor.

Machiavelli and Desmond walked slowly back to the ground of dead bodies. Both needed to gather their horses and find a more secluded and private place to talk. Which Machiavelli would find a barely used stable with nobody around.

"I give you again my thanks. I am a skill fighter, but even my brothers would have struggled in that fight. My name is Niccolo Machiavelli, Assassin of the Italian Brotherhood."

"An honor to meet you, Niccolo. I am Desmond Miles," Desmond replied, leaving out what Brotherhood he was from.

Niccolo's eyes widened when he heard his name, "You know of me?"

Desmond nodded, "I have heard mere stories."

"You are not Italian? Though you have a Florentine accent?" Niccolo noted.

"I have adapted to the language and country," Desmond responded easily.

"So, I have seen. You fight well for an Assassin; the Italian Brotherhood will be glad to have you."

Desmond gave a small smile, "but you have something else on your mind."

"I have heard your name before. A friend, brother of our order, Ezio has mentioned your name," Machiavelli revealed.

Desmond nodded, "this may be difficult to explain…"

"We have time," Machiavelli waved him on.

"I am not from this time, but yes, Ezio will know my name," Desmond said.

Machiavelli's eyes narrowed, disbelieving.

"And what time are you from?"

"Very far in the future, I used a complex piece of machine that allowed me to see through Ezio's eyes..."

"That does not explain on how you are here," Machiavelli's words were straight to the point.

"A pedestal, very similar to the Eye of Eden, an artifact you have witnessed. It was supposed to kill me," Desmond explained.

Niccolo was stunned, "I will admit your robes look close enough to an Assassin's robe, yet unfamiliar. So, maybe this tale does have some truth. And what does this mean for us?"

"I wish to aid you, help the Brotherhood in all that I can. Cesare and Rodrigo must be killed after all that they've done."

"Then you know…" Niccolo asked.

Desmond nodded.

"So… this pedestal… is it… what was its intention?" Machiavelli asked.

"The world was going to burn with a solar flare, it was supposed to save the world," Desmond admitted.

Niccolo scrunched his eyebrows together, "then you must have succeeded. But doing so, burned your arm. Though your story, hard to believe. There is some truth in it. Some people will not believe you, so it may be best if they know you are just an Assassin coming to aid us. I will not tell you who you can and cannot tell this information to."

"I know. There are not many who I would trust to tell this to…"

Machiavelli looked thoughtful, "indeed… yet I'm one of those…"

"You are an Assassin and Ezio trusts you," Desmond replied.

Machiavelli gave a small smile at that, "I see then. Well… if we are to make it to Roma with a day or two we must get going. Though it would be best to find an inn for rest and riding for the morning.

"I appreciate the help, Niccolo," Desmond said.

Machiavelli nodded, "as am I, my friend…"

* * *

The inn wasn't as bad as Desmond thought it might be. The bed he was provided was clean at least. And the door did lock to keep any unwanted guests out. And they did provide meals as long as they paid for them. Something that Machiavelli took care of. He paid Florins for both rooms and for the meals to be delivered to their individual rooms. Though the outside did look worse for wear, the inside was a different story.

The people inside seemed content enough as they were at tables, either waiting for their food or drinks. Desmond wondered how many actually rather take their meals in their rooms. He didn't think this was an area to be infested with Borgia. But with how close it was to where Machiavelli had been surrounded, he didn't want to take a chance.

He had already caught several give him glances towards his arm. He still hadn't managed to get a pair of gloves to hide it. Or maybe that was because he was covered in blood. And naturally the people were curious, though they didn't dare to stop and question him. Apparently, the sword on his hip was enough to deter them, for how long… he did not know. But he knew that Machiavelli would probably help deter those questions even further. He cared a lot more weapons on his person, though not enough to rival Ezio. He could clearly recall having a mix of several swords, daggers, throwing knives, and pistols.

This fact unnerved him far more than it should. He was still coming in terms with the 'injury.' And he already hated how much it hindered his fighting abilities. He constantly thought about the fight several hours ago. He did appreciate Niccolo for taking him to a doctor. But he wished it hadn't been needed. It had been agonizing just to imply what happened to his arm back at the Grand Temple. Though he didn't reveal that it was the Grand Temple, a place he knew that the Templars were searching long and hard for. But he knew it had been necessary. Others may believe that his arm was burned alive, he doubted that would have worked on Machiavelli. That and it would be easier to have someone who knew the truth.

It made him wonder if he would ever get used his arm. And maybe that was his impatience talking. But he wanted to get back to where he could use his arm and not have it flail around helplessly. But that was the question, would it ever go back to normal? He didn't think it would really. Maybe some movability… after given some time. This would take some getting used to and he didn't like that one bit. He wondered how Malik did it during the Crusades. The man had lost his arm because of Altaïr, when he had been too arrogant.

Desmond sighed; he was glad nobody could read his thoughts. Since most of them held loathing for himself. And he already knew what the next few days would bring. He would come face to face with Ezio Auditore. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling about that. Maybe elated… He had always admired the Assassin ever since the day he took on the Assassin robes. A man that once had vengeance drive him. And later had justice and peace follow him through his life. It was Ezio that reconfirmed his decision on being an Assassin. And it made him realize the depth of his mistake of running away at sixteen. Not just because he had gotten kidnapped and forced to live one of his ancestor's lives. But it had showed him what it meant to be an Assassin and what the tenants and the Creed really meant. Something he didn't really care for in his youth.


	3. Forged in Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually don't update so soon after just updating another fanfic yesterday. But I felt quite inspired... I think I may try to work on ULA next!!
> 
> And if you haven't seen it... I added a cover image on chapter 1. I feel in love with it when it was represented to me. Though it was made after I started writing this. 
> 
> Enjoy!!
> 
> ~NicoDiAngeloLover7

**A Key, Once Lost, Has Been Found – Chapter 3 (Forged in Fire)**

Desmond had been getting dressed when Machiavelli wandered into his room.

"Glad to see you are up and awake. You had mentioned wanting to see more of Roma."

Desmond nodded, placing his bracer on his wrist.

"I will welcome you to come along, I am due to be in Mausoleo di Augusto this afternoon," Machiavelli said.

Desmond nodded, Grazie."

Machiavelli nodded before leaving once more.

Desmond looked around the room, it was nice enough. The bed was more comfortable than at the Inn. But he wasn't going to say as much to Niccolo's face. The Assassin had already helped him so much already. Though it would be curious to see what the Augusto looked like in person. It had to be different just looking at it thorough Ezio's eyes.

And watched he did. Though Desmond had forgotten what it was like with the Borgia in full power. Everything seemed so isolated and constrained. Less people about and Roma was indeed a beautiful city.

"Have you ever thought about fighting back?" Desmond asked.

Machiavelli looked at him, curiosity in his eyes.

"Its like the people are begging for another chance…"

"Desmond, do you know what you're saying? Roma is not a small city," Niccolo said.

Desmond snorted, "I realize that."

"You remind me a lot of Ezio. That would be something he would say," Machiavelli noted.

Desmond flushed at the compliment.

"It's a plausible suggestion, one that could take years in the making…"

"Then what is stopping you?" Desmond prompted.

"You are a determined man, Desmond… It would take a vast set of numbers to even start pressing against the Borgia. Which I'm not sure is the wisest set of course right now. Our numbers are already few as it is," Machiavelli replied.

Desmond frowned at that, but he knew what was about to happen. A series of events that Ezio would set in course.

"But I know a few men that could help with that," Machiavelli finally said.

Desmond grinned at that before he felt someone behind him. He kept his scarred arm still to his side and twirled around. His blade unsheathed and firm against a neck. He had to blink several times before he realized exactly who it was that he was threatening.

"Ezio," his voice was barely audible.

It was clear to the young Italian that he was caught off guard. He had expected it to be a threat to Machiavelli, only to realize it was an… Assassin? And one that clearly knew his name? Today was just getting more confusing as each minute passed. It didn't help that he was still injured.

"You know of me?" Ezio asked.

Desmond gave a half glance at Machiavelli, hoping he'd say something.

"Ezio?"

"You are surprised to see me?" Ezio said, his attention now on Niccolo.

"Most of the city has heard of the Villa attack, I heard about it a few days ago myself," Machiavelli responded.

"And your friend? There are not many Assassins you know that I do not," Ezio tried to not have his tone sound accusing.

"A trusted ally and Assassin. He saved my life mere nights ago," Machiavelli revealed.

Ezio's eyebrows shot up, "you have my gratitude. Machiavelli is a friend of mine."

"Likewise," Desmond muttered, not sure what else to say.

"You have news?" Ezio asked.

Machiavelli nodded, "I have a contact waiting for me. Desmond had agreed to accompany me there."

Ezio's eyes widened and looked at Desmond and actually studied him. That was when he noticed his arm.

"You are—"

Desmond rolled his eyes; he was not in the mood to have that conversation at the moment. Though he didn't bother correcting Machiavelli. He didn't really say he would accompany him on his way to meet that contact of his.

"Yes," he cut off. "But that is not the type of conversation to be had at the moment."

"You are correct, forgive me. It is not everyday that I would come across…"

Desmond grinned, "I know very well. I would like to meet this supposed contact of Niccolo's though."

Ezio nodded, "indeed…"

Machiavelli looked at Ezio critically, "though it would be wise to replace your equipment while you are not under guard."

"I still carry my blade, as does your friend. That is equipment enough," Ezio retorted.

"And unlike you, I carry a second blade," Desmond commented.

Machiavelli's lips twitched at that as Ezio let out a small laugh.

"I cannot fault you on that. A second blade would come in handy," Ezio agreed.

"Good, I can lend you some Florins so that you may live another day," Machiavelli said as he handed him a small bag.

"Grazie."

Desmond watched as Ezio took the bag of Florins from Niccolo and walked up to the window at the closest Blacksmith. And apparently the Assassin bought two items, not just a weapon for fighting with.

The first was a very standard version of Roman Spaulders. It would give him some protection, though not much. But it was better than just wearing a robe and hope for the best. Now that he thought about it, he should probably find a day to purchase some of his own. Since he was doing just that… wearing his Assassin robe and no armor of protection.

The second thing that Ezio had gotten was a short sword or maybe it was more of a dagger. He knew what it was. It was called a Stiletto. It had a long slender blade with a needle-like point. It definitely was a must have if you wanted to slice someone's throat and do a good job of it.

Desmond glanced down at his own sword. It probably would need sharpening, but it would do the job if he needed to do a run through. Though it would honestly be better if he just bought another sword. Hopefully one that would be more durable and hold up better. His was a bit off balance and it could be hard to find a well-balanced sword. But that didn't mean it was impossible.

He personally would love to have a Milanese Sword. He remembered when Ezio had owned one back in Florence and eventually Roma itself. He knew it was made of stainless steel and wasn't likely to break in the middle of a fight. He honestly loved that sword. Though, he was more of a fan of one-handed swords. There were easier to swing and could grab another weapon if he wanted to. That usually would be the hidden gun within the Assassin's gauntlet. Although it still amazed him of all the upgrades that Altaïr did in his lifetime. But if it wasn't the hidden gun, it would be a spare knife or dagger to catch them unaware. But for right now, there was only the hidden blade. He hoped that he might be able to upgrade it sometime. But when you had a life as an Assassin, you never knew when that would be.

That wasn't to say he wouldn't use two-handed swords. They just tended to take more time to swing and by then a guard could evade his strike and land one of their own. Though he liked where they could deal quite a bit of damage if you landed the hit. And he was a bit partial to the Spadone when the need called for it. And there was the worry if his other arm could be usable again. So, he doubted he would ever be able to use a two-handed sword again. The thought was bit of a depressing one.

Though there was one sword he didn't dare think about.

Altair's sword…

He knew that Ezio had wielded that blade before. But that had been before Monteriggioni was attacked. He knew that Ezio eventually went back for it after the attack. He had never wielded a more beautiful sword. If you could call a weapon beautiful… He didn't dare think about wielding that weapon again. But that didn't help the longing he had for it again. He had to shake his head slightly to get rid of the thoughts before talking.

"Perhaps you can convince Niccolo of reason against the Borgia," Desmond brought up.

Ezio had a smirk on his lips, "your friend has a good idea, Machiavelli. Surely two Assassins who have the same idea means better than one?"

"And you mean to do this yourself?" Machiavelli scoffed.

"No, I will require help. But you cannot deny that we cannot let the Borgia and the Templars maintain their power and control here," Ezio admitted.

"You realize this will be no small task, Ezio. Roma is quite vast, and Cesare already has his sights upon Italia," Machiavelli said.

"Not for very long," Ezio promised.

Machiavelli looked at Ezio in disbelief, "I do have contacts… but it can be a start. If you are decided on this… it will be a long course. One that I am doubtful that you can manage."

"I am aware, but I cannot deny that the power must be returned back into the people of Roma."

That was when Desmond set off at a dash.

Both Machiavelli and Ezio just looked at his retreating form, bewildered.

Literally ten minutes later Desmond came back… covered in blood. He frowned at himself, knowing he'd have to get that cleaned out again. Why did blood have to be so hard to get out of clothing?

"An idea of yours?" Ezio prompted.

Even Machiavelli wasn't sure what prompted such an action.

"I hoped that was one of the Borgia…" Machiavelli started to say.

Desmond rolled his eyes, "you can't just say words and expect to have Roma start to be liberated. And I doubted that you expected to walk to your contact without horses. I know the Borgia have their rule over here and by eliminating him we can be one step closer."

"You realize the stables are still closed and unavailable?" Machiavelli said.

Desmond snorted, "and as you can see… My arm is still not fully healed, and I won't be able to climb the tower. You need to have a signal to the people. Eliminating the Borgia captains will only do so much."

Ezio nodded in approval, "I may not have beaten you to killing the captain, but I can light the signal."

Machiavelli just raised an eyebrow; he still didn't think by just killing some guards you'd have access to the stables. But he watched as Ezio steadily climbed the tower before lighting it ablaze.

"You were saying?" Desmond asked as the stables came available.

"I am not saying you are wrong, Desmond. But it will be a long effort," Machiavelli relented.

Desmond nodded.

"It is not a bad idea on taking away the leaders of the Borgia, Desmond. But it will not be enough…" Ezio said, climbing on his horse.

"What is it you have in mind, Ezio?" Desmond asked, though he already knew the answer.

"The Borgia thrive on their source of power. Take that away and it will cripple them," Ezio explained.

"You are talking about the people?" Machiavelli surmised.

Ezio nodded, "Sì. It's a way of changing Roma for the better. Humanity is at the heart of the Brotherhood. We cannot ignore that."

Machiavelli didn't argue against that and kept riding.

* * *

It was at the Campidoglio that Ezio and Desmond met with Machiavelli to meet this contact of his.

Desmond had decided to dismount from his horse and wander around. Seeing that Machiavelli was still looking for his contact. They were close enough to the Colosseum. But Desmond got curious and activated his eagle vision. It was a bit disorienting at first, but his interest got piqued when he saw something golden out of the corner of his eyes. It looked to be one of those Vatican couriers who was speaking with a guard.

Desmond decided to go around and pickpocket him while the man was distracted. And once he was a good distance away, he took a look at it. That's when he realized… that was the letter that the contact was supposed to steal. He wanted to smack himself for it, though he had honestly forgotten about that moment. But he figured he could stick the letter into his robes and hand it to Machiavelli.

By the time Desmond got back to where he dismounted from his horse, the three guards that had surrounded the contact were dead. And Ezio had just began chasing the courier that Desmond had just pickpocketed.

"Well…" Machiavelli demanded.

"Machiavelli, there was no letter," Ezio said, walking back up the hill.

"Impossible… there been hints about correspondence between the Followers of Romulus and the Borgia. That letter was crucial for that. This does not make any sense…"

"Maybe I can help with that," Desmond cheerfully cut in.

"Desmond… what do you mean?" Ezio asked.

"While you were busy chasing down the courier, I had already gotten the letter," Desmond smirked.

Ezio barked out a laugh, "outsmarted by another Assassin!"

Desmond handed the letter over to Niccolo, as the man quickly cursed.

"They must keep a code sheet somewhere in one of their lairs…" Desmond thought out loud.

"Ezio, I will leave that for you to find out. You will know where to find me when you do," Machiavelli said.

"Wait one moment, Machiavelli," Ezio said.

"Ezio, what is it?" Niccolo asked.

"You said we had allies; I want to see them. If I'm to be fighting to help Italia, I need to know who's on my side," Ezio replied.

Machiavelli nodded, "you will find that some of them won't be too surprising to see."

"I will determine that for myself," Ezio said.

"But for now, a friend of mine has something to show you," Machiavelli said, beckoning him towards one of the underground tunnels.

Ezio and Desmond followed without a word.

Unlike Ezio, Desmond knew what to expect. This was when Machiavelli would lead them to the Assassin's hideout. A place that Fabio Orsini would supply them with. But that didn't mean he wasn't anymore memorized by what he saw. He remembered being star struck upon seeing it for the first time in Ezio's perspective. But it felt so different looking at it in person. Like he was starting to realize that he was actually here, and he wasn't going to get pulled out of the Animus any time soon.

With that, he didn't realize the missed conversation between Ezio and Machiavelli about the 'issues' of the underground work.

With that Ezio turned around to leave again.

"What are you going to do?" Machiavelli asked.

"Do what you didn't," Ezio replied.

Then Ezio stopped again and Desmond couldn't find out why. Machiavelli had already left for the other room. He assumed to inspect the work that Fabio had put together for the Assassins.

"What?" Desmond finally asked, the staring was getting too much for him. He just hoped that his face wasn't as red as he thought it was.

"You need to know our allies as well, Desmond. I may not know you well… but you are an Assassin," Ezio commented.

Desmond held back a snort, he felt like that was just an excuse.

"Do you mean that you just want to know how I got here?"

Ezio looked sheepish, "Among other things, yes."

Desmond sighed; it wasn't like he had anything else to do. And sitting around to wait for his arm to heal was boring.

"I accept, lead the way, Ezio," Desmond said.

Ezio's eyes lit up with something Desmond couldn't identify.

"That I shall…"


End file.
